


A King's Ransom

by doctorweber



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alcohol, Anal Sex, Biting, Blindfolds, Blood, Elves, F/M, Gangbang, Gratuitous Smut, Kissing, Not Suitable/Safe For Work, One Shot, Prostitution, Sex Work, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-15
Updated: 2018-04-15
Packaged: 2019-04-23 00:46:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14320794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doctorweber/pseuds/doctorweber
Summary: She gets more than she bargained for in the cellars of the Elvenking.





	A King's Ransom

**Author's Note:**

> I own absolutely nothing. Least of all Tolkien's estimable estate.

He took her as he always did, behind the barrels. In and out. Thrusting as he pleased, a smug, self indulgent bastard. He was wasting precious time. She was bent, knees on the dusty floor. Face in the dirt, she came to know the smell of aged oak wine barrels. Oaky, she thought lamely. The guard did not pause in his exertion, only halting his pace somewhat to wipe the sweat from his brow. This was the third or fourth time the guardsmen had used her for their amusement. The floor was cool and calm, and the whore was careful not to make too much noise. The party overheard was loud, but castle walls had ears. Pointy, pointy ears. The guard’s friend was last in line, and after that she was free to spend her copper as she wished. Their wine was sweet, and their fairyfood sparkled in the moonlight. Copper spent easily here in a land that time forgot. 

The blindfold had yet to come off. It was a strange request, but then, she was a woman of strange requests. She figured that some of them would get in trouble if they were caught with her. Elves made a big show about mating for life, being eternal swan like creatures that must exude grace and beauty. These wood elves were different, and redder blood flowed through their veins. What she did know is that the order in which they fucked her never changed. The last often fucked her so hard her teeth ached, but had a smaller cock than the one before him. She had learned to read the signs, the tracks in the snow, like a ranger of the Dunedain. They all laughed as the last one gave her ass a slap before plunging into her wet gaping cunt. She felt some blisters start to form, right proper all the way up. She would go to Laketown next, and her pussy would ache all the way from here to Gondor. She was a whore on a mission. To make as much gold as she could before the war started up in earnest. She wanted to be somewhere nice and safe when the pillaging started. 

And suddenly, a noise. An unexpected and very loud noise. The slam of a solid wood door, and the creak of a staircase and the exhalation of the guardsmen and the scatter of feet. Elven feet scattered so beautifully. There would be nary a footprint left behind. She stayed as she was, cunt high in the air, full of cum, face on the cool stone. The blindfold stayed. What else could she do but accept her fate.

The wait stretched through an eternity. She had the strange feeling she was being judged, and only time would tell if she was found worthy. The air had a hazy, smoky tang, as the roasts from the great hall wafted down through the cellar. She breathed deeply. “Copper for a fuck?” she asked, blithely. A laugh. All elves laughed like trees sighing in the wind, whatever the fuck that meant. And a deep voice answered, patiently. “Now what would I want with a human whore?”

“Depends. What do you need her for, my lord?” she shot back. Two could play at that, she thought derisively. If they wanted to insult her, they could at least do it after their fun. She cared not for their feelings, but for the money in their pockets. Did elves have pockets? Who knew. Surely you don’t make fancy dresses like that, picked out all in gold and velvet, without sewing some pockets on them? 

The blindfold was tugged at, and her face was lifted into the air. “Your nose is dirty.” She fought the urge to wiggle her ass temptingly. Still unable to see, she whimpered with just the right amount of sexual tension. “That’s because I’m filthy,” she said, with no amount of shame anywhere to be found. “Which of your holes hasn’t been fucked?” the voice asked, casual and condescending. “They only touched my cunt, my lord.” Another ringing silence. Elves were silent the way cats were, judging you with unspoken standards. She was reminded of the brown barncat that sniffed disdainfully every time the children tried to catch her.

“I am to have the beggar’s choice then?” Another silence. Elves took their time. Humans did not. “Do you want my ass or my mouth?” The clink of coin on the ground did not go unnoticed. “I’ll decide.” Something heavy was put on the table behind her, it rang like metal. Fear struck. Didn’t elves eschew violence? No, not these ones, they killed men and orcs alike. Her mind raced, as she thought up all the horrible ways she could die, blindfolded in a cellar. “May I take off the blind, hîr vuin?” she asked, careful to keep her voice steady. Another chuckle at her clumsy use of Sindarin. She spoke it as a child speaks, repetition and glee.

“It suits you, I quite like it. Come here.” And so she came, fear and terror striking her heart. She slowly and surely made her way to the voice, and she felt a cool hand gently push her back down to her knees. Her hands grabbed out, and felt the edges of a chair arm, and the offending elf’s leg. A chuckle from the elf. He laughed too much. A cup was lifted to her lips, and the smell of wine overpowered her. “Drink this.” 

“My mother taught me not to take anything from the fae,” she said. She told her patrons that when she wished to keep her wits about her. The slap that followed was unexpected. “Well then, you’ve done a poor job of that. Drink!” And with that, no argument could be brooked. She downed half the cup, and instantaneously felt warm. No human wine could manage that. Whiskey perhaps, but not wine.

“Unlace my breeches and service me, wench.” She took the rest of the wine and downed it all, hoping to catch a glimpse of her opposite under the blindfold. It was too dark, and she took herself to task for forgetting that elves could see in dark. She worked the laces for an embarrassingly long time, and they were knotted in a way that simply would not come loose. “If you can,” came his droll reply to her fumbling. “You made it hard,” she snapped. “I cannot be blamed for your faults,” he said quietly.

She managed the laces and his cock sprung free. She dipped her head down daintily on his manhood, and heard him groan. She bobbed back up and steadily started working his cock. Up and down, use the balls, a lick here or there, of course, the most important part: the gargle. Par for the course. But apparently, she didn’t meet certain requirements for the job. As all men did (elf, dwarf, or human [she wasn’t sure about orcs]), he started correcting her pacing by placing his hand at the back of her head. And he got close. 

“Stop.” He said with a sense of finality. She rocked back on her heels. “Yes, my lord.” They sat in companionable silence for what seemed an eternity. And then she was being pulled by her braid. The blindfold, which had taken quite a beating, was askew, but not enough to see a real definitive shape. She was pushed onto what she assumed to be the table, face smashed against the hardwood. Strangely, she had never felt more exposed. Her cunt throbbed and ached. “I’ve decided,” he said. She had no idea what he was talking about, but she felt herself grow wetter. 

“Decided what?” She asked, thrusting herself back at him. “Both,” he said. A long finger explored the outside of her asshole, and she moaned. “Oh, both,” she said, encouragingly. “Ah yes, you require some … lubrication?” He asked, to which she mumbled incoherently. His finger trailed from her ass to her cunt, and then back again, using the cum still inside her as lube for her other hole. She was nearly weeping at this point, sobbing with need and frustration. “F...fill me up,” she sobbed. Her scalped ached from the pulling, her ass ached from the invasion, and her mind ached from the wine.

And as suddenly as it wasn’t there, it was. His cock felt huge. She yelped, and for that offense her hair was snapped back even harder. She froze for the longest moment, before the alcohol settled her nerves and her asshole expanded peacefully. And then she forgot language. It hurt tremendously, as she wasn’t used to filling this hole, but the pain was tempered with the utmost pleasure and she felt herself tipping closer to the edge of oblivion. His pace was slow and languorous this time, never wavering from his own internal beat. He smelled strongly of wine, and she had the suspicion that he didn’t do this often. She beat back against him wildly, trying to use her hands to pleasure herself, but he laughed wildly and caught her hands on the table with his own. But that action was his own undoing, as he hit his limit. Spasming into her, he spilled his seed, gyrating his hips to the ancient song of mating. 

Their breathing evened out, and suddenly they were breathing in tandem. That was some high class romantic shit right there. Even so, she wouldn’t be able to walk right for a month. Unceremoniously, he slipped out of her, and she could hear him fumbling with his own breeches. She turned, and made the motion to take the blindfold off, now that their fun had been had. He stopped her, capturing her arms once more, and kissing her harshly. Now that she hadn’t expected. She was more a passive spectator to the kiss than a willing participant, and to drive that point home, he ended the kiss with a sharp bite to her lower lip. The skin gave way, and she realized that he had drawn blood.

“I want you here tomorrow night, wench, and I shall pay you handsomely for it, but you must understand, you are for my use, and only mine.” And with that order, she flipped her skirts back down, and felt her way towards the coin on the floor. Bending down, she felt for the coin he had callously thrown her way, skimming the floor with her fingertips until she had it. 

“This is gold!” She exclaimed, weighing and biting it to make sure. A sultry laugh came from the doorway. “Kings don’t pay with copper.”


End file.
